


New York City Nights

by VarjoRuusu



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, AU, Bucky likes Steve's Art, Gen, Guitarist Bucky, M/M, Modern NYC, Natasha is called Natalia, Painter Steve, Peggy and Sam are a power couple of sneaky people who aren't actually a couple, Pepper runs the other half, Tony runs half the world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers worked too hard. At least according to his friends Peggy Carter and Sam Wilson, who drag him to a concert after three weeks shut up in his apartment painting. The moment Steve sees the guitarist for the band, Мстители, the Russian word for 'Avengers' his world begins turning upside down at an alarming rate and suddenly he finds himself lost in blue eyes and a crooked smile. </p>
<p>Modern NYC AU wherein Steve is a painter, Bucky plays guitar, Natalia is a sass, and Sam and Peggy smirk a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've never written an AU like this before. I've only written one other Captain America story at all and it turned out pretty weird. I don't know for sure where this is going, but hopefully somewhere nice. Please enjoy.

“Peggy, do you really think this is a good idea?” Steve asked, glancing around the crowded room, eyeing the people scattered around the walls.

“Steve, you haven't left your apartment in three weeks. You need to get out,” Peggy rolled her eyes, prodding Steve in the side until he moved forward a little.

“Peg, you know I have a deadline for the opening next week,” Steve began weakly but Peggy just shook her head as she pushed him towards the front of the room.

“I know for a fact you've already finished more then enough pieces for the opening, Steve, that's why we're here. You need to stop worrying so much.”

Steve sighed. Peggy was probably right, he was being too critical of his work, but he was sure the gallery would turn down at least half the pieces he brought, so he made sure that he had more then enough. He was willing to admit, possibly not out loud, that he was working too hard since he only really remembered to eat when Peggy or his friend Sam forced him to eat, but he wasn't sure that a concert on the other side of Brooklyn from his apartment was the best way for him to unwind. He was more likely to spent the entire evening worried someone would break in and steal his artwork if he wasn't there.

“Stop worrying,” Peggy elbowed him in the ribs and he chuckled, shaking his head. “You're going to love this group. They're all the rage in the small clubs.”

“If I go home and draw every member of the band, I'm blaming you, you know,” Steve chuckled as Sam appeared at his side with three drinks. “Thanks,” he mumbled as he took one of the beers and Sam passed Peggy her whiskey on the rocks.

“Steve, if you didn't go home and draw every single one of them, I'd be disappointed,” Peggy muttered, glancing at Sam behind Steve's head, watching his smirk.

“Am I missing something?” Steve asked.

“Shh,” the other two hissed as the lights went down and the room fell silent. Gentle guitar chords started, soon accompanied by a soft humming. A single light faded on slowly, a spotlight on the center of the stage and Steve's breath caught.

In the center of the soft stage light was a man, his dark hair falling over his eyes, obscuring his face. His broad shoulders were slightly hunched, body curled around his guitar as he played softly. He wore a black shirt, sleeves pushed up past his elbows, revealing an intricate sleeve tattoo on his left arm, a colorful design that Steve couldn't see the details of in the dark. His eyes were closed as the music floated through the eerily silent room and Steve found himself mesmerized as a voice joined the gentle playing.

A second light came up and Steve tore his eyes away from the man with the guitar to look at the singer, a young woman with red hair. She also sat behind a drum set and Steve raised his eyebrows. She sang softly for a few moments, words not really reaching Steve's ears as he looked back at the man with the guitar. He stood as the soft singing trailed off and traded his acoustic guitar for an electric, handed to him by a man with silver hair. As he turned back to the crowd all the lights rose spectacularly to reveal the rest of the group and the first notes of a power cord resonated around the room and seemed to settle in Steve's blood.

Along with the dark haired guitarist and the redheaded drummer who had sang briefly, there was another woman with a gaunt face and dark hair who stood in the center of the stage and sang, as well as a stocky blond man with a spectacularly purple bass, but Steve found his eyes continually drawn back to the man with the guitar. He was easily the most attractive man Steve had ever seen in his life and he was trying his best not to let it show on his face. He could tell at once why Peggy had dragged him to this particular club, to see this particular band, and through a strange annoyance at being torn away from his work, he decided not to give her the satisfaction of knowing she was right and this was just the distraction he needed. He didn't think about the paintings scattered around his living room once all evening, though his fingers itched and burned with the desire to get a pencil in his hand a pad of paper under it.

“I told you that you would enjoy yourself,” Peggy's signature smirk audible through her precise British accent.

“Shut up, Peg,” Steve grinned half-heartedly, his eyes never leaving the guitarist. He was grinning, his foot tapping to the music, which had turned into something close to rock, but with an oddly mellow singing to accompany the power cords from the bass and guitar.

After about forty minutes the singer announced their last song and Steve felt his breath stop as the guitarist looked up and their eyes met across the room. It felt like someone had punched Steve in the gut and he both wanted to turn and run, and get closer to the piercing blue gaze that was locked onto his own. He held his ground, waiting for the other man to look away, but he didn't. He played without looking at his hands, and Steve didn't even hear the song. It wasn't until almost four minutes later, when all the stage lights went out at once, that he could tear his gaze away. When the house lights came on again, the guitarist was gone and Steve felt a twisting in his gut, like he had lost something important.

Behind him Sam and Peggy were arguing about who was going home with him to make sure he went to bed, instead of painting something else and they finally settled on Sam, agreeing he would stay over for a couple of days to make sure Steve actually took a break. He didn't hear a word, still staring at the place where the dark haired man had been. By the time he finally shook himself out of his staring contest with the stage, the bar was already half empty and he shook his head, drowning the rest of his beer and turning to Peggy with a grin, determined to at least try and preserve a little dignity and not let her know he had been so shell shocked by those eyes that he had just blanked out the last ten minutes.

“So, can I go back to my work now?” he asked cheerfully and she just rolled her eyes, turning on her heel and walking out, leaving Steve and Sam to follow.

Once Steve was home and had tossed a few obligatory insults at the back of Sam's head as he fell face first onto the guest bed, he grabbed a pencil and sketch pad and sat down in his favorite recliner and began to draw. An hour and a half later the floor around him was scattered with pictures of the guitarist and he admitted to himself that maybe he had a little bit of a crush. With a grin he gathered up the sheets of paper and hid them away before he curled into bed and was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.


	2. Chapter 2

 

  
Three days later Steve couldn't get the band out of his head. He had searched the internet up and down but no one seemed to know that much about them. They called themselves Мстители, 'Avengers', and of them all went by stage names, things that led nothing to who they really were. The singer, first name Wanda, called herself Scarlet Witch, the drummer, first name Talia, Black Widow, the bassist was Hawkeye, no first name, and the guitarist was only known as Winter Soldier. The roadie with silver hair was called Quicksilver by his fans, a name garnered from his occasional accompaniment on the electric keyboard, playing almost too fast to follow. Some people thought he was related to one of the other band members, but no one really knew anything for sure.  
Steve stared at the blank canvas in his living room and he sighed, knowing what was going to end up going on it, but trying to resist the urge. Finally shaking his head he pulled a few pencils out of his desk drawer and began to sketch on the canvas.

The drummer, Talia, was first, her hair spinning around her as her hands rose to bring her drumsticks down. Steve used a picture from another concert to capture her face and her wide grin before he filled in a bit of rough detail on the drums and moved on to the bassist. He wasn't hard to draw and Steve made sure to put a large P on the bass to remind himself to paint it purple, rather then a traditional color like black or brown. Next was Wanda, the lead singer, her arms spread wide as the red shawl she wore blew in nonexistent wind, her hair fluttering around her face as she sang. He added Quicksilver, since he seemed very popular with the fans even thought he only played one or two songs. Last was the guitarist, Winter Soldier, and Steve found himself drawing out features with no reference and when he did pull up a picture he realized he had drawn the man nearly perfectly from memory. The only thing missing was the detail on his sleeve tattoo, which Steve hadn't been able to see in the dark room.

He sighed as he stepped back and checked over his sketch. The five of them seemed to float in midair, along with the drums, keyboard, and microphone, so he added a stage, then decided instead of a crowd he would blend the entire thing into a dark background fading to black at the edge of the canvas. The vivid colors of the band members would help them to stand out against such a dark background and he thought about making them all slightly backlit, giving them the appearance of glowing slightly. He nodded to himself as he got out his paints and started working.

Sometime that night Sam came into the living room and left a giant mug of coffee and three sandwiches next to Steve's paints, not saying anything, just smiling and snapping a picture to text to Peggy.

Steve reached for a sandwich eventually, his brow furrowed as he filled in the details of Talia's drums. He had left Mr Winter Soldier for last, wanting to take his time and savor painting this beautiful man. By the time he had finished the entire painting and collapsed into bed, he had been working for almost twenty hours straight.

When he woke up eighteen hours later, there was a note and a plate of spaghetti waiting for him in the kitchen, instructing him to eat the entire thing, after he stuck it in the microwave, and to meet the curator at the art gallery with photos of all the pieces he had been working on for the last several weeks so that she could decide which ones would be going in the gallery in the next week or so. The opening was scheduled for the first of July, twelve days away, and Steve had been asked to provide thirty six paintings for the gallery. He had already photographed most of the pieces, but on a whim he snapped a photo of the Avengers painting before he headed out the door.

A little over a week later Steve stood in the center of the gallery, surrounded by his paintings and sighed, a grin on his face. Sam chuckled, knowing what was going through his friends head and he nudged Steve.

“Pretty good for a kid from Brooklyn, huh?” he asked and Steve chuckled.

“It could be worse. I could still be on a corner doing ten minute portraits.”

Sam grinned. “Man, you really have no idea the talent you have, do you?” he asked, sweeping his arms around at the paintings. “These are going to be snapped up by art enthusiasts like that,” he snapped his fingers. “I bet you $20 that every single one of these is sold before the show closes.”

Steve shook his head. “No bet.”

Sam shrugged and grinned again. “I gotta run man, but looks like you've got company.”

Steve felt his heart nearly stop when he glanced up at the door to see two of the band members coming into the art gallery, baseball caps pulled low on their faces. As soon as they were inside they tilted the hats back and grinned at each other, like they were sharing a secret. Steve felt his heart skip when he saw the man smile and hoped like hell he'd know something else to call him by the end of the day because calling him Winter Soldier was just getting awkward. Especially after the picture he had painted of all of them playing at the club had been given center stage at his exhibit.

Plucking up his courage Steve straightened his spine and walked over to them, holding out his hand in greeting.

“Hi, I'm Steve Rogers,” he said with as much cheer as he could manage. “Welcome to my gallery.”

“Ок. Он красивый,” the man said to his companion and she snickered.

“Плати, проигравший,” she said, holding out her hand. With a sigh the man passed her twenty dollars and Steve raised his eyebrows.

“Hi, I'm Natalia Romanov,” the woman said in perfectly american english. “This is James Barnes, my very annoying older brother.”

“Adopted, older brother,” the other muttered as he shook Steve's hand. “Everyone calls me Bucky.”

“Nice to meet you,” Steve forced a smile.

“So, we heard you did a painting of our band,” Natalia said cheerfully. “We'd like to see.”

“Sure,” Steve nodded, trying to ignore the tingling on the palm of his hand as he let go of the other man. “Right this way.”

He turned and led the two of them through the gallery to the center, where a large four foot by six foot canvas hung, four separate lights shining on it.

“Woah,” Bucky said eloquently when he got a look at the painting. “You're good,” he grinned.

“Thanks,” Steve said awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head.

“You're missing some details,” Bucky smirked, holding up his left hand and wiggling his fingers. Steve nodded, looking at his painting, where Bucky's arm was hidden in a shadow.

“I couldn't really get a good look at the details from a distance, and I didn't want to just draw something,” Steve shrugged, fighting to keep his voice even.

Most people couldn't tell just from looking at him, but Steve was incredibly shy, a major part of why he had become an artist. An artist could be a recluse easily and never have to interact with people. In a turn of events that still puzzled Steve, his art had suddenly been gaining in popularity around Brooklyn and at his first art opening he was expected to hang around the gallery and 'schmooze' as the gallery curator had said, at least three days a week for three weeks. The exhibit would run for three months, but he had talked Pepper around by telling her that if he spent that much time in the gallery, there would be no new material for the exhibit she was already organizing in downtown Manhattan.

“It's cool,” Bucky shrugged. “Let me know if you ever want a closer look.”

Steve blinked. He could swear Bucky had winked at him before turning away and chattering to Natalia in what Steve assumed was Russian.

“Да, Да,” she was saying with a good natured eyeroll and she grinned at Steve. “We'll be back in a couple days,” she said. “I want the rest of the band to see this, and I want to bring our manager to talk to you about doing a cover for our next album.” She handed him a card and Steve stuttered, glancing down at the name. Maria Hill, Stark Enterprises, was written in silky flowing script with a phone number scribbled below it. When Steve looked up again it was just in time to see the door swing shut behind Natalia and Bucky.

“Wow,” he breathed. The world really was a small place.

Stark Enterprises was widely known around the world as the premier entertainment entrepreneur. They were headed by Tony Stark, an eccentric man with too many cars and too much time on his hands, or so said the media. Pepper told a different story, but she would, considering she was engaged to Tony Stark and she ran the art division of Stark Enterprises. She simply said Tony got bored easily, which was why the company had become so wide spread so quickly. Stark Enterprises had actually been started in the 40's by Tony's father, Howard, as a science division during the war, then had moved into the movie industry in the late 40's and on and up from there until Tony took it over and opened and art division in the early 90's.

Steve had already been surprised enough to be picked up by the company and to have his art handled by Pepper personally was more then he could have ever hoped for in his life, but Pepper had a tendency to scout for talent in the smaller galleries around New York and had come across one of his portraits of Peggy, calling him as soon as she got her hands on his number from the gallery. That had been two months ago and Steve was still a little in shock from the events that were catapulting his life into the mainstream of the art world.

“Steve!”

Steve turned to find none other then Pepper Potts grinning at him from across the gallery. “Hi, Miss Potts,” he smiled, shaking her hand. Today was certainly turning into a busy day.

“Steve,” she said a bit sternly and he shrugged with a sheepish grin. He still wasn't comfortable calling her Pepper to her face. “So,” she continued. “I've just received a call from an anonymous art enthusiast, he wants to buy your centerpiece.”

Steve glanced over at his painting of the band and his eyes widened. “I didn't know we were selling it,” he admitted. He knew most of his paintings were going to sell eventually but they hadn't discussed the piece with the Avengers.

“We don't have to,” Pepper said with a nod, “But the offer is there. I told him that since the gallery only opened a week ago, the painting won't be available for his collection until it closes, although the gallery in Manhattan is talking about wanting to feature it for their exhibit too. He said he doesn't mind, but he's offering $50,000 for it.”

Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times before he shook his head and went for the nearest chair. Pepper followed him with a smile and laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Breath, Steve,” she said.

“Are you serious?” he asked, looking up from the ground. He may have grown out of his childhood asthma when he hit 6'4” but he was still feeling rather lightheaded after the number he had just heard.

“Steve, I've told you before, your art is amazing. Even Tony wants the portrait you did of him for his penthouse, and Tony hates art,” Pepper said as she sat in the chair next to him.

“Tony is also the most narcissistic person I know,” Steve pointed out and Pepper chuckled.

“You have a point there, but as a narcissist he's very, very picky.”

“Huh,” Steve managed, still a little shaky. Three months ago he had been painting 10 minute portraits on the streets to pay the rent and using every tiny drop of paint he could afford to paint anything from cityscapes to landscapes, portraits, abstracts, anything that came to mind. He never imagined he would end up here, with an entire gallery dedicated entirely to his art.

“Can I think about it?” he asked.

“Of course,” Pepper said with a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I told him we'd get back to him by the end of the exhibit, and to let him know as well if anyone else was interested in buying the painting.”

“Anyone ELSE?” Steve asked and Pepper just grinned before she turned to her PA and walked away, chattering about something to do with the Manhattan art opening scheduled in a little over a month. Steve just buried his head in his hands and tried to stop his mind spinning.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:
> 
> “Ok. He is pretty.”
> 
> “Pay up, loser.”
> 
> Please note this is according to google translate, I only just started poking at Russian on duolingo a week ago...not my skills.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short and cute interlude chapter, wherein Bucky shows up and asks Steve on a date.

The art show had been open for three weeks and Steve was on his last day of mandatory schmoozing at his gallery when Bucky walked in, eyes glues to his phone and baseball cap backwards on his head. He was wearing jeans that sat far lower on his hips then was generally socially acceptable, even in this day and age, and an absolutely skin tight t-shirt with a black leather vest. 

It was bad enough Steve was having a hard time breathing, then Bucky came right up to him with his giant smile and said:

“Hey, Rogers, want to go for coffee with me?”

And Steve was sunk. He knew he was a gonner from the look in Bucky's blue eyes and he sighed, grinning. He glanced around the gallery and shrugged. So what if he skipped out a couple hours early. The hottest guy he had ever met wanted to get coffee with him. Feeling just a little goofy, but not enough to care, Steve nodded and grabbed his coat off the rack.

“So, tell me all about Steve Rogers,” Bucky said with a smirk, sliding his phone in his pocket as they made their way towards the nearest good coffee shop.

“Not too much to tell,” Steve shrugged. “Only child, lost my dad in the war in '02. Mom passed a few years ago, lung cancer. I got into art school on a scholarship and then Pepper Potts spotted one of my portraits of my friend Peggy and now here I am. I'm only 25, not much has really happened in my life.”

Bucky chuckled. “I'm 26 and my friends and I started our band in High School. I'm sure you've seen how popular we're getting.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded. “I might have seen something about you being nominated for an MTV award or two.”

“Or six,” Bucky coughed into his hand and Steve grinned. 

“Not bad for a few kids forming a high school band,” Steve said, nudging Bucky's shoulder as the other stared at his feet. 

“So what's next?” Bucky asked, pulling the door open and silently racing Steve to the counter to order the coffee.

“Well, Pepper has an opening at a big gallery in Manhattan set up for a couple weeks from now. Big boring black tie thing, so far from my style that I kind of want to run screaming.”

Bucky snorted as he paid the girl behind the cash register for two large black coffee's. “Not the kind of thing you can avoid huh?” he asked as they sat and waited for their drinks to be ready.

“Not so much,” Steve sighed good naturedly. “What about you, got any shows coming up?”

Bucky nodded. “A couple, one or two small clubs here in the city then...Talia, the little witch she is, got us this gig at a festival in Central Park in about three weeks. I don't know the date, she runs the calendar with Clint. I just show up where I'm told and play,” Bucky grinned at Steve and Steve laughed, trying not to blush at the same time. 

“So uh...you wanna go to a movie or something at some point?” Steve asked, trying his best not to sound as awkward as he felt. Bucky chuckled.

“You're cute, Steve Rogers,” he said with a wide grin. “I would definitely like to go to a movie with you.”

Steve was now the color of a tomato and Bucky just laughed harder.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, you wanna come to the art opening?” Steve asked, glancing at Bucky over his sketch pad.

“So, you wanna come to the art opening?” Steve asked, glancing at Bucky over his sketch pad.

Two weeks had passed since their impromptu coffee date, although Steve had only seen Bucky twice since then. Turned out they had a few more gigs lined up then he had thought, and Natalia had appeared at the gallery, where Bucky had been nagging Steve about painting him, and dragged her adopted brother to D.C. for a week.

Currently Bucky was sprawled on Steve's couch and Steve had his feet in Bucky's lap while he drew the man across from him for the seventh or eighth time that afternoon. Bucky raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Steve.

“Am I going to have to wear a suit?”

“Yeah, sorry,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his head. “Formal dress event.”

Bucky groaned. “When is it again?”

“Two days. Pepper got you a ticket, it's on the kitchen table, if you want to come.”

“What do I get out of it?” Bucky asked, waggling his eyebrows and Steve chuckled.

“Open bar?”

“I was thinking more of a chance of peeling you out of your suit with my teeth at the end of the evening.”

Steve turned red. “We haven't even kissed,” he protested and Bucky tilted his head in thought before he nodded.

“I can fix that,” he grinned. Steve squeaked slightly as Bucky dumped his feet on the ground and crawled up his body, gently knocking the sketchpad away. Steve had just enough time to toss it on the coffee table and bring his other hand up to dig in Bucky's hair before they were kissing.

“Oh,” Steve mumbled when Bucky pulled away. “Ok,” he grinned. He was about to lean in again when Bucky's phone beeped and he rolled his eyes.

“It's Natalia,” he said after glancing at his phone. “This is the only part I don't like about being in this ridiculously popular band. I have to turn up for all the press events and interviews and, ugh.

“What is it this time?” Steve chuckled.

“That magazine Revolver. Shouldn't take too long but...”

“It's cool,” Steve grinned. “On one condition.”

“What's that? Bucky asked, raising his eyebrows and trying to hide a smirk. Steve grinned and took a handful of Bucky's shirt, dragging him closer and kissing him until they were both panting.

“See you Saturday?” he panted as he drew away and Bucky chuckled.

“See you Saturday, punk,” he grinned. He kissed Steve one last time before grabbing his backpack and hightailing it out of the apartment. He knew if he didn't, he wouldn't leave for hours and well, Natalia was scary and Bucky wasn't about to inflict her wrath on Steve.

Steve groaned and let his head fall back on the couch arm when the door shit behind Bucky. He had it bad and he knew it.

-:-:-

“You asked him to the opening, didn't you?” Peggy asked with a small smirk.

“So what if I did?” Steve asked, shifting and adjusting his tie. Peggy sighed and turned him around to straighten the offending piece of material.

“You're blushing, he's not even here yet,” she chided with a wide smile. Steve sighed and glanced down at her, her blue dress perfectly matching her blue eyes, which were twinkling with mischief.

“Peggy, why do I have a feeling you're up to something?” he asked suspiciously.

Steve could almost swear he forgot how to breath when he saw Bucky entering the party. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, crisp white shirt and dark blue tie. His hair was tied back in a small knot at the base of his head and a few strands were falling around his face, just enough to make him look roguish, even as dressed up as he was. It was the first time Steve had seen him without stubble and he could easily say he liked it just as much as the roguish look Bucky was so fond of. He was late, but Steve really didn't care. Peggy chuckled and left Steve as he stared hopelessly across the room, watching as Bucky introduced himself to Pepper.

Steve blushed when Bucky's eyes locked on his over the heads of New York's richest art enthusiasts, and the dark haired man winked. Steve could say one thing for sure about Bucky. He was intense. Steve was no stranger to relationships, even quick ones that only lasted a night, but Bucky was nothing like he had ever encountered. One look from him had Steve's blood boiling all the way across the room. It wasn't long before he found himself across the room, having worked his way around chatting to various people, and he had come face to face with Bucky without realizing it.

“So,” Bucky drawled, draining his champagne glass and putting it on a waiters tray as he passed. “Enjoying your party?”

“It's...interesting?” Steve said, his voice raising in an obviously uncomfortable question at the end and Bucky snorted, trying to hold back laughter.

“You hate it,” he said and Steve grinned, nodding as he ducked his head.

“I hate it,” he confirmed.

“Whadda ya say we blow this popsicle stand?” Bucky grinned and Steve rolled his eyes.

“I bet you've been waiting all evening to use that one,” he said with a shake of his head as he glanced around and determined no one would notice him if he snuck out the back with Bucky.

“Punk, I've been waiting to use that line since I laid eyes one you.” Bucky's eyes were gleaming and his voice was so laced with suggestion that Steve felt himself blushing, despite the fact that he wanting nothing more then to drag Bucky out the nearest door and then pin him to the closest wall and devour him.

With one more glance around Steve grabbed Bucky's hand and pulled him out the back door into the alley behind the gallery and proceeded to do exactly what he had wanted to do since the night in the bar.

Bucky groaned as his back slammed against the wall and his hands gripped the back of Steve's neck tightly as their lips collided and he groaned loudly when Steve pushed their bodies together, pressing Bucky against the hard bricks.

“My place is closer,” he managed as Steve broke away and went for his neck.

“I'm only 10 minutes away this time of night,” Steve mumbled, licking Bucky's neck and loving the way his stubble scraped along his tongue, estimating traffic between Manhattan and Brooklyn at 11:30 at night on a Wednesday.

“I'm the next block over,” Bucky said breathlessly as he dragged his hands down Steve's torso and slid them under Steve's suit jacket, his hands running over the thin silk shirt that was the only thing that kept him away from Steve's skin.

“Fine,” Steve mumbled, raising up to kiss Bucky again, even more desperately. “Lead the way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this. Already finished, will probably post later in the week. :) Hope you enjoyed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, but it is also the beginning of a brand new line. *Yes, Cheesy* :)

When Steve opened his eyes the sun was shining across his face and he turned his head, burying his face in his pillow to block out the light. Except it wasn't his pillow. He raised his head, briefly confused, then he looked to his left and the night before came rushing back when he saw Bucky awake and watching him, leaning on his left hand, his tattoo clearly visible in the morning light.

“Morning,” Steve mumbled shyly and was rewarded with a grin that he personally thought was brighter then the sun.

“Morning, punk,” Bucky said softly as he leaned over Steve and kissed him, drawing small noises from the other man as he licked along Steve's lips and into his mouth softly, teasing the blond man until he gripped Bucky's hips and rolled them so that Bucky was the one pinned to the bed and Steve was kissing him with everything he had.

It was another hour before they emerged from the bedroom and Bucky poured them both coffee from the coffee pot that had to have cost a small fortune, considering it appeared to be able to brew coffee without any help from a human. Steve stuck his nose in the coffee and inhaled deeply before he took a drink. It was good coffee. Turning he wandered into the living room and stopped dead.

“You...you bought my painting?” Steve asked, turning around to stare at Bucky, who snorted.

“Are you kidding? I had to fight Talia for it,” he said with a grin, leaning against the counter as casually as if he wasn't wearing sweats that were barely hanging onto his hips and looked so indecent it made Steve want to pull them off with his teeth.

“But...you...the buyer paid $85,000 for it,” Steve stammered. Bucky just shrugged.

“My dad was an ass, but he was a rich ass. When he died he left my sisters and I a ton of money,” he said, his face twisted in loathing. “Mom died first, so the money was split between me and my three sisters, plus the two kids my mom adopted after dad left. Damned bastard, I spent all my teenage years working any job I could to support all of us, keep the girls in school and my little brother out of jail, and the bastard dies and leaves us close to a billion dollars.”

Steve's eyes widened as Bucky shrugged. “We donated most of it to charity but we all kept enough to keep us living comfortably for...ever, for some of us. Maybe a little less then forever now, after I bought your painting,” Bucky was grinning again by the end of his story and Steve was even more flabbergasted then before.

“Wow,” was all Steve could manage. He looked back at his painting, proudly taking up Bucky's entire living room wall, and the TV that had been banished to the corner, and he shook his head, grinning. “You gotta be one of the weirdest people I've ever met,” he said happily and Bucky chuckled.

“Course I am, no one out there could possibly be weirder then me.”

“Have you ever actually met Tony Stark?” Steve asked and Bucky snorted into his coffee.

“Now there is an eccentric man and a half,” he said with a grin and Steve nodded.

“I can't believe you spent that much money on my painting,” Steve said, still in shock.

“Maybe you're worth it,” Bucky said quietly and Steve blushed, hiding his smile in his coffee mug.

“Hey, you wanna come to the MTV awards with me?” Bucky asked suddenly and Steve blinked.

“Sure?” he said, his voice raising in a question.

“Well, I did come to your art opening,” Bucky smirked and Steve chuckled.

“That you did,” he grinned. “That you did.”

 

_Six months later_

 

“Hey Buck, we made the news,” Steve said calmly as Bucky stumbled into the kitchen clad only in a pair of Steve's pajama bottoms.

“Coffee,” Bucky groaned, reaching for the steaming pot.

“You're gonna wanna see this,” Steve smirked and turned the news paper around.

Across the entire front page was a picture of the two of them from the MTV awards three months before and a headline that made Bucky choke on his coffee.

 

_**AVENGERS GUITARIST LANDS NYC ARTIST** _

_**James Barnes and Steve Rogers are Engaged!** _

 

“How the hell did they find out?” Bucky stuttered. “I only asked you three days ago!”

Steve chuckled. “I have a feeling we have a few snitches in our midst.”

“Natalia,” Bucky growled and broke into a long string of Russian. Steve tilted his head, picking up a word here and there before he shook his head and chuckled softly.

“You forgot Sam, and Sharon, and Peggy. Pepper. Tony. Maria. Clint. Wanda. Pietro. Hell, it was probably a party planning the exact story to leak. Oh and you know now that Pepper is going to insist on planning a huge wedding and all of New York will be there and...”

Steve was cut off by Bucky's hand over his mouth and the serious look in the other man's eyes.

“Steve, baby, I love you. But we're eloping to Cuba.”

Steve couldn't stop his laughter and soon they were both clutching their sides. “Sounds good to me,” he grinned, pulling Bucky onto his lap. “Then maybe we could move to France or something. Have a vineyard, a few horses, live it up on the riviera.”

“With what millions, Steve? I gave most of my money to Charity, remember?”

“Oh didn't I mention? My entire collection sold to some billionaire art collector and I hear your album is about to go platinum. I think we're both set for about the next century,” Steve smirked.

“Bullshit,” Bucky said with wide eyes. “You're serious?” he asked and Steve nodded. “Ok. Italy.”

“France.”

“Italy.”

“France.”

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and run away with me.”

“Sure Buck. Anytime you want.”

 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! See you soon with some new oneshots! If there is anyone out there who catches the (I swear it was an accident, I didn't even notice until I had written it) music reference, (not you Nic, you already know,) let me know! *kisses and cookies* 
> 
> I am very happy to have finished this story, can you tell?

**Author's Note:**

> So. Russian is from Google Translate. I have started learning, but I know about 4 words, one of them being the word for Bicycle. How odd is that. Anyway, if I need to make any corrections, please don't hesitate to comment. 
> 
> I am willing to admit I am having a bad time with confidence recently, so I don't feel too happy with this. I feel it's odd and stilted, but I'm posting it anyway because I have to work through it somehow. I'm almost positive everyone will think it's brilliant and etc, but well. There it is. 
> 
> You can find my avengers blog on tumblr too, tumblr.com/lgavengers   
> There will be lots of Stucky. There will be lots of Civil War stuff. #teambucky


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